The BYSTANDER requested that
https://perchance.org/ai-poem-generator compose
a “Shakespearean sonnet
on Donald Trump and FEMA".
In a flash what follows
flowed and scrolled down
The BYSTANDERS's screen.
Although it's a poem,
that much is clear
(if only in
BYSTANDER's tin ear),
it isn't a sonnet
and it ain't Shakespeare.
Upon the stage of fate, a man did rise,With golden locks and words like sharpened knives,His name was Trump, a king of realms unseen,In FEMA's shadow, scenes of horror he did weave.A tempest raged, and storm clouds filled the sky,The people trembled, wondering if they'd die.He tweeted forth his power, bold and vast,Yet in their plight, the storm clouds grew so fast.He promised walls to keep the floods at bay,But when the water came, it had its way.The winds did howl, and buildings fell like leaves,While he, in comfort, watched from his high perch.In FEMA's hands, the fate of millions lay,Yet he did cast their plight as some strange play.With every gust, a cry for help was sent,But he was deaf to their desperate lament.The storm had passed, the waters receded,Their worlds in ruins, hearts forever ceded.And in the silence of their darkest hour,Their cries for aid grew louder, grew in power.A sonnet, this, of nature's fiercest son,And one whose heart was never truly won.The leader, cold, who played the game of thrones,While FEMA worked, with hearts like warming suns.Let history judge with eyes unclouded,The man who claimed the crown, so proudly shrouded.And may the tale of this tragic pair,Echo through the halls of truth, forever there.In sonnet's end, let's not forget the cost,Of pride and power, of what's truly lost.For in the storm, 'tis clear to see,'Tis empathy and aid that truly set us free.
